she sucks at this
by deceptivelycomplex3925
Summary: She'd rehearsed. She'd rehearsed so many times. Emma proposes to Regina. It doesn't go exactly how she planned; but when do things she plans ever go the way she wants them to? A fluffy one-shot. Also, I suck at titles. Leave me alone.


**A prompt written for a friend. Another good friend and I spent a good twenty minutes looking up middle names that were worthy of our queen. I do hope you like the one we chose. **

"Regina." she nudges at the spread eagle lump hogging three fourths of the bed.

There's a muffled groan and the lump shifts, long hair curly and unkempt from sleep fanned out over the pillow, tickling at Emma's nose and she chuckles because Regina Mills, primp-and-proper-and-elegant-always Regina Mills, sleeps like their seventeen year old son.

All askew limbs and pouty lips and Emma gets on her knees then, straddling Regina's back before burying her face in her neck and nuzzling.

Regina's got a particular ticklish spot just below her left ear and Emma mouths at it, resulting in a shoulder shooting up to cover said ear and there's a groan again, this one a bit louder and more akin to a whine, and Emma sits back on Regina's lower back, rucking up her silk blue tank top and drawing random shapes on the planes of her olive-toned shoulder blades.

"Regina," Emma says again, trying out her own whine. "It snowed like three feet last night and it's our first winter officially together and I want to build a snowman with you."

There's a mumbled, gravelly reply into a pillow and Emma thinks she makes out 'last year' and 'bubonic plague' and Emma huffs, fingernails following the slight musculature of Regina's back, goosebumps following in their wake.

She feels the corner of her lips tug up slightly.

"You're buried inside that pillow, Regina. I can't hear you."

There's an overdramatic, incredibly, ridiculously _childish_ huff and she feels Regina's muscles contract to turn over, so she lifts up a little, and three seconds later she's being glowered at by bleary caramel chocolate eyes and some serious bed head.

Emma bites back the laugh she feels bubbling up in her throat because ever since Regina's hair had grown past her shoulders it's taken a liking to curling at the ends and when she wakes up in the morning it's always _really_ curly _everywhere_ and she's such a heavy sleeper and her lips are still in that little pout she has when she's dreaming and her skin is bare of any makeup and her scar is just _there_ and she's _glaring_ and she looks so fucking _adorable_ and Emma is _never_ going to tire of a sleepy, grumpy Regina.

"If you laugh right now I will fling you out the window, Emma Swan." She's up on her elbows and still glaring, voice husky and Emma's never going to tire of _that_ either.

"You're cute," Emma says, biting back a grin.

Regina looks outraged and lifts her knees so that they're resting against Emma's back.

"I was the Evil Queen, I am the mayor of this town, I strike fear in the hearts of those who dare – "

"_Cute_," Emma interrupts, smirking now.

And Regina gives her a withering look before rolling her eyes, sighing like Emma is the bane of her existence.

"So," Emma drawls out, bouncing on Regina's stomach, excitement making her smile look almost cartoonish.

Regina's brow quirks up. "So?"

And Emma rolls her own eyes and heaves an exasperated sigh.

"Come on, _please_? We couldn't last year and I want to build a snowman with you," she pouts again for added effect because there was a night before they'd ever even confessed their feelings and a _lot_ of apple cider had been imbibed where Regina'd let it slip that she thought Emma 'frustratingly adorable' when she pouted like that.

Regina gives her that 'I know what you're doing and it isn't going to work' look and Emma bats her eyelashes, even tilts her own head a little bit.

"It's not my fault you had the flu during the one week it snowed. And you are no longer allowed to watch Frozen."

Emma scowls at her. "Baby brother loves Elsa, and we _did_ get to meet the characters in person. It's pretty cool to see them all animated and singing."

"You're a child."

Emma runs the backs of her knuckles along Regina's abdomen, still pouting, still batting.

And Regina's nipples go taut through her tank top and her jaw clenches and her eyes flicker to Emma's hand slowing making its way up underneath the light blue fabric and Regina's own hand shoots out to grab Emma's wrist just as she brushes the underside of her breast.

"One hour," Regina relents and Emma beams, victorious.

#

"I can't feel my fingers."

"That's because you didn't wear gloves like I told you to. _Three_ _times_." She feels the pointed look like a laser between her shoulder blades.

She wipes at her nose with one hand and then sticks it in the pocket of her oversized sweatshirt, making sure, for the _fifth_ time, that the little box was still in there safe and sound.

She sticks a baby carrot in the middle of her snowman's nose (they didn't have any big ones) and takes a step back, admiring her handiwork. It's lopsided and its eyes are two different colored buttons, one brown and one green, with two small twigs. There's something missing.

Emma frowns, unwinding her scarf and wrapping it around her snowman's neck and then smiling, nodding her head in approval.

She claps her hands together, a job well done.

"Yeah, well, I needed the precision, my snowman looks – "

And then she turns and sees Regina, arms crossed, looking annoyingly smug, and a friggin' picture perfect snowman directly to her left.

"I've been working on mine for 45 minutes!"

Regina chuckles, eyeing her snowman with sympathy.

Emma stomps over to Regina's snowman and glowers at it, its stupid perfect, non-baby carrot nose, its perfectly matching twig arms, its two black, perfectly rounded eyes, and it's not lopsided body. _Perfect_.

Emma crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at Regina.

"You used magic."

Regina examines her gloved hands, shrugging.

"You didn't say we couldn't."

And Emma huffs because of _course_ Regina would use magic to make a snowman and she doesn't even have a speck of snow on her coat or the grey beanie she'd stolen from Emma's drawer and Emma decides that's not okay.

She bends, grabs a handful of snow, forms it into a ball in her hand, and throws it square at Regina's face.

It hits with a dull thud in the middle of her cheek and Regina stumbles back, eyes blinking in shock before they fix onto Emma's.

"You did _not _just throw a snowball at me."

Emma lifts her chin. "You cheated."

And then there's a perfectly rounded snowball forming in Regina's gloved hand and Emma's eyes widen, backing up, because she _so_ didn't know Regina could do that.

"Woah – wait. Where the hell did you learn to do that, Elsa?!"

Regina scoffs then, smirking, taking a step forward for every one Emma takes backward.

"No, dear. I have many talents. Not all of them you're aware of." She bounces the ball up and down in her gloved hand, looking like a cat with a trapped mouse, and Emma looks over her shoulder, the wall of the side of the mansion getting closer with each passing second. And then she kind of stumbles over a bush almost buried in snow. "Perhaps you should have taken that into consideration _before_ you decided to start a snowball fight."

And Emma's back's against the house now, Regina's smirk turning sultry and she moves so that she's nose to nose with her, their breaths translucent white puffs, mingling together.

And Regina's leaning in and Emma thinks this profoundly unfair snowball fight is about to take a most delightful turn when Regina's lips brush against her own.

And then Regina shoves the snowball still in her gloved hand directly into Emma's mouth and Emma sputters, shell-shocked, blinking and wiping at her face, glaring when she hears Regina's laughter.

And so she wipes at her eyes one last time, swallowing the melted snow in her mouth, and tackles her.

They land on the ground, the snow making the impact feel like falling back onto a bed, and Emma pins Regina's arms by her head.

Regina isn't upset though, she's laughing still and Emma forgets then that she can't feel her nose from the snowball that had just been smashed in her face, forgets that she was going to make Regina pay for that little stunt (even if it was only fair).

Regina's cheeks are flushed from the cold, Emma's beanie having slid off with the fall, and her soft brown eyes are almost twinkling with her mirth.

She looks _gorgeous_ and Emma moves in to kiss that laughter, to feel it vibrate against her lips, when she cognizes the absence of that little box in her pocket.

Regina's laughter fades into curiosity just as Emma realizes what she's holding between her gloved fingers.

"Emma," Regina breathes, eyes wide and voice a whisper, "what's this?"

And those brown eyes flicker up to hers and Emma blinks down at the little box, mouth agape.

The little box she'd kept well hidden in one of her older leather jackets in the back of her closet for the past three months.

The little box that held the ring she had worked double shifts for.

The little box that held the ring she was going to give Regina today.

Though this wasn't how she had it planned, Regina's holding it now and she'd already rehearsed what she was going to say.

So she takes a deep breath, shifts back so that Regina can sit up, and opens the box, fingers red and numb from the cold.

She hears a sharp intake of breath and steels her nerves.

_She'd rehearsed this_. _Don't fuck it up, Emma Swan, don't fuck it up_.

"I know it's technically only been a little over a year but really it's been much longer than that, hasn't it?" She looks up briefly to see if she's scared Regina off yet but she just meets russet eyes dancing with unshed tears so she takes the ring out of the box and twirls it between her thumb and index finger.

Her stomach is in knots and though her fingers are numb, her body is warm, too warm, from her nerves and so she fixes her eyes on the glimmer of the small diamond.

"I've had this for three months," she lets out a breathy chuckle, watching as it disappears into the crisp, winter air; she tips her eyes up to look at Regina when she says, "your pay sucks, Madame Mayor."

She gets a watery titter out of that and looks back to the ring.

"There were so many times I wanted to just blurt it out, so many times I wanted to just _ask_ you. But I wanted it to be something I thought through. The words, I mean, what I would say. Because you deserve thought, Regina. You deserve preparation, you deserve nothing less than perfect and I know, _god_ do I know how far from that I am but…" she takes a deep breath and finds Regina's eyes, tears falling freely now, head tilted and eyes shining and so full of _love_ and Emma feels the nerves fall away like an oversized coat, or perhaps like the oversized sweatshirt she's got on.

She scoots forward on her knees a little bit and takes hold of Regina's hands, sans gloves now, the ring resting between their right and left palms.

"Regina, I've been in love with you since the very moment I saw you."

Regina scoffs at that, giving Emma a pointed look.

"I know, I know. But it's true," she squeezes Regina's hands, "even when I destroyed your apple tree I was in love with you…by the way," she smiles sheepishly, apologetically, "sorry about that." Regina rolls her eyes at her but she's smiling so Emma continues, emboldened. "Even when you tried to kill me – _sorry_, put me under an eternal coma," she amends when Regina hastens to interrupt, "I was in love with you. Even when you threw me back onto the sidewalk that day I accused you of killing Archie…that day I told you you'd never go anywhere near Henry again," her voice turns ashamed now, sorrowful, and she feels Regina squeeze at her hands.

"I was wrong then. I'm so sorry for that Regina," she's blinking back blurriness from sudden, _completely_ unbidden tears, and she curses herself for the deviation from her rehearsed speech.

Regina tugs at her hands and she tips her eyes up to meet soft, soft brown.

"I forgave you a long time ago for that, Emma." And Emma nods and sniffles and looks at their intertwined hands again.

"I remember the first time I wanted to kiss you," Emma breathes, runs her thumb along Regina's knuckles, "actually, I wanted to kiss you that day at the mines all those years ago," her eyes meet Regina's again, a question in them, curious if her suspicions had been right that day, "I wasn't just seeing things…you were totally staring at my lips, right?"

And Regina laughs, biting at her bottom lip, and Emma thinks it's the most alluring thing she's ever seen.

"No, you weren't seeing things. I wanted to kiss you. I think I kind of hated you, and I hated that you made me _want_ to, but yes, I did want to kiss you."

"Knew it," Emma singsongs and Regina rolls her eyes in that 'you're incorrigible, Miss Swan' way.

Emma's heart warms and she gives a crooked smile before a thought pops into her head and she eyes Regina, frowning.

"Why did we never have hate sex?" Because honestly _that's _something she still can't believe they didn't ever take advantage of.

Regina's head jerks back and she looks at Emma incredulously.

"I – " then she tilts her head, contemplative, brow furrowed, "I don't really know, honestly. Perhaps that's something we should discuss when you're not trying to propose to me?"

Emma's heart jumps and her mouth parts. Oh yeah, _shit_. Proposal. _Good fucking job, Emma. You literally suck at this, jesus. _

Regina chuckles softly and squeezes Emma's hands again, reassuring.

"You were doing wonderfully," she whispers and Emma bites the inside of her cheek, wanting nothing more than to just ask the four words right now, but she'd rehearsed. She'd practiced.

She takes a deep breath and down casts her eyes once more.

"Right…so, the first time I wanted to kiss you…aside from that day…and a couple other times where I just wanted to kiss you to shut you up, or kiss you because you were so fucking _hot_ when you were pissed off." Her eyes flicker up to Regina's. "You do realize that, right? That you're almost unfairly-fucking-sexy when you're angry?"

"I seem to recall you mentioning it a few times, yes," she drawls, eyebrow arched.

Emma finds their hands again.

"Right…well, good…because you are."

Shit. Seriously, Emma? You're supposed to be telling her how she's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. How when the sun hits her eyes just right they almost look like honey. How you want nothing more in your life than the little family they have. Her and Henry. They're the only two people that matter.

Emma lets out a frustrated breath.

"I rehearsed this," she says, the words clenched from her own annoyance at herself, "I spent hours in the mirror practicing what I was going to say. I should have been on the part where I tell you that there has been nor will there ever be any single thing on this planet more beautiful than you. How sometimes when you're concentrating really hard on something you get this little wrinkle right between your eyes and it makes me want to smooth it out with my lips. I'm supposed to be saying that sometimes when I watch you with baby brother, there's this light in your eyes, a warmth, something I only ever see in you when you're around our son. It's beautiful, Regina," her eyes flicker up to see tears again, a watery smile on bare lips and it's like that one. That one the day Emma and Henry had to leave Storybrooke and Regina had given them new memories.

_My gift to you is good memories. A good life for you and Henry. You'll have never given him up, you'll have always been together. _

"You're so beautiful," Emma breathes, eyes not able to leave Regina's now.

"I don't deserve you. I don't," she repeats when Regina lets out a sound of disbelief, "you are so fucking _precious_, Regina, so fucking worthy of every single happiness life has to offer. You deserve it all and more. You deserve everything good in this world, Regina, and in every other realm that exists."

She tightens her hold on Regina's hands.

"You are my only want, my only need. There is nothing I want more in this life than you and our son and this little family of ours we've created. We created him, Regina. He's _ours_. He's ours and no one else's and I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Giving you what you deserve. Trying every damn day to be worthy of you, of your love. Because nothing, _nothing_ in this world, would make me happier than to have the privilege of waking up next to your smile every day, Regina. _Nothing_."

Regina's crying softly now, head bent and Emma untwines their hands and holds the ring out between thumb and forefinger.

Regina's eyes tip up and Emma feels alight in every inch of her body.

"Regina Elena Mills," she says, shifting so she's now on one knee – because dammit, she was going to do _this_ part correctly, "will you marry me?"

And Regina's still crying, but she's nodding, hand over her mouth, eyes closed but then she opens them. She opens them and Emma's heart kind of leaps into her throat and her lungs constrict because that look? That look is Emma's every waking dream. That look is a _forever_, that look is warmth and light and _happiness_ and _love_. That look is for Emma and Emma only and Regina gives Emma her left hand, the ring sliding on with a perfect fit and Regina continues to nod as her face breaks out into a beaming, watery, _beautiful_ smile.

"Yes," she breathes, "_Emma_, _yes_."


End file.
